


A Warm Bed and a Lazy King

by singularthey



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 14:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1308157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singularthey/pseuds/singularthey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is perfectly willing to be his king's chamberpot in the middle of the night, and Arthur is perfectly willing to take advantage of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Warm Bed and a Lazy King

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a [kinkme_merlin prompt](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/32553.html?thread=33822505#t33822505):
>
>> Arthur's too lazy to even take a piss out of bed... but Merlin's right by his side, warm and ready to take care of his needs.

Merlin woke slowly to an insistent prodding on his back. With great effort, he opened one eye, and took in his surroundings; it was still dark out, still with the night's chill in the air, and he was still mostly warm in Arthur's luxurious bed. His arse was still a little sore and very open, so he couldn't have slept for long. And the poking appeared to be Arthur's finger, coming from behind him, exactly where he ought to have been.

He closed his eye again, hoping he could ignore him and fall back into his wonderful, warm sleep.

"Merlin. _Merlin_."

Damn. Without opening his eyes again, he groggily croaked, "I'm tired, Arthur. What's so important?"

"I need to piss."

Immediately, Merlin felt his cock stir, hardening against his thigh. He didn't, in his opinion, hear those words often enough, at least not in the right context. But it was late, and he could already feel his mind fogging up with unconsciousness again.

"Merlin, I _really_ need to piss. Come on."

His king really was terribly lazy at night. Merlin hoped the people of Camelot never had cause to see Arthur like that. "I'm too tired right now, Arthur. I'd probably choke on your cock if I tried to drink it right now."

Silence. Merlin couldn't feel Arthur moving behind him, so he had little hope that he'd gotten up to take care of it himself, but he wondered if he hadn't decided it wasn't that important. A part of him hoped that wasn't the case; although he was tired, he knew he'd regret not being roused for the opportunity in the morning. Arthur was just not generous enough with his urine, and might even pout about it and hold out on him.

Merlin nearly jumped when he felt Arthur's fingers on his arse cheek, surprisingly cool. He opened his eyes, but kept still, waiting to see what Arthur had planned. When those fingers slipped down, toying with his hole and tugging at the rim of his arse, his cock twitched again, filling slowly but steadily.

"You're still loose. Do you think— Could I—?"

"Oh _gods_ yes," Merlin gasped, cupping his growing erection. The thought of it cleared his mind, woke him enough to really appreciate how arousing the situation suddenly was. He rubbed at himself, biting his lip.

Arthur put a hand on his left thigh, pulling slightly. "Lift up your leg."

Merlin did, and felt the bed shift slightly as Arthur rose up partially onto his knees, spreading Merlin's arse cheeks and hooking his thumbs into his hole. He played with him for a bit, just running his fingers along Merlin's rim, and then one hand fell away. A moment later Merlin could feel Arthur's warm, soft cockhead pressing clumsily at him. Clearly Arthur was not awake enough to appreciate the fact that he was pressing his dick into Merlin; he was only slightly hard, and he slipped about a bit until he gave up on getting his cock to stay inside him. He pressed up close, and Merlin could feel the back of his knuckles on his right thigh.

The moment he felt the warm piss hitting his arse, Merlin couldn't stifle his moan. At first Arthur's aim was off, and it ran down Merlin's thigh, but he corrected himself until he was pissing right into Merlin, over his own thumb hooked inside him. Merlin shuddered, jerking himself almost frantically, as he felt it pool up inside him, filling him with a liquid warmth not entirely dissimilar from Arthur's come, but more like water, sloshing around with every tiny movement either of them made.

Eventually, to Merlin's dismay, the stream slowed, its force dying down into a trickle. Arthur sighed tiredly, absently rubbing the wet head of his cock against the back of Merlin's balls. He was still soft, and when his cock was mostly dry he fell back into the bed.

Merlin quickly shifted, piss flowing out of him and running down his leg even as he got his knees under him and pushed up, holding it within him. There was a hot, wet spot under his right knee, and even as he fantasized about keeping it in him through the night, he knew he couldn't. Reluctantly, he removed his hand from his cock, getting his arms under him, and shimmied to the side of the bed.

The chamberpot was never far in the night, which made Arthur's laziness infuriating but almost amusing at the same time. Merlin may have spared a little magic to get it closer to the edge of the bed, and he clenched his arse muscles as he climbed down carefully, positioning himself over it as quickly as he could and letting go.

The release of it was almost as good as receiving it, and as it drained out of him he put his hand back on his prick, jerking himself furiously while using his other hand to hold him up against the side of the bed. He wished Arthur were more awake, wished he could feel him fucking his hot, wet arse, but if he had been, he'd never have been able to do this at all. It felt like only seconds before he came, though he knew it was longer — even his sleep-numbed mind knew he wouldn't be so quick after having come so shortly before. He caught most of his come in his palm, then slumped against the side of the bed, exhausted.

He thought about climbing immediately back under the covers, but he was already out of bed, and he had a handful of come. He knelt over the chamberpot, holding his cock with his clean hand and aiming at the other. He didn't have to go quite as badly as Arthur had, but he had enough piss in him to rinse away his come, and once it was out of him he felt as relaxed as he'd ever been. There was a rag under the bed — one of his old neckerchiefs, in fact — and he used it to wipe off his hands and thighs. He eyed the piss-filled chamberpot once more before climbing back into bed, thinking absently that it seemed a terrible waste to let it all just sit there and cool, but, well.

He _was_ terribly tired.

He crawled under the sheets again, struggling to avoid the wet spots where they'd failed entirely at not making a mess. He'd clean the bedding in the morning, and then spend the day reliving what had just happened while absently doing chores, plotting a way to get it to happen again.


End file.
